


Another Day

by icandrawamoth



Category: Rent - Larson
Genre: Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Relationships, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-10
Updated: 2016-01-10
Packaged: 2018-05-12 23:59:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5686657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icandrawamoth/pseuds/icandrawamoth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roger has good days and bad days; Mark is always there to try and lift him up again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Another Day

**Author's Note:**

> I finally started going through my writing folder with stuff from the last few years with an eye toward posting some finished and previously unshared stuff, so here's the first one.

Mark blows through the door like a whirlwind, clutching his camera and exclaiming excitedly, “You’ll never guess what I caught on film down at the corner market!”

When his roommate doesn’t answer, he turns from settling the camera on the kitchen counter, and what he sees makes his heart drop. Roger is lying on the couch facing away from him, huddled under the raggedy blue blanket that is always hanging around their living room somewhere. On the floor a few feet away is Roger’s guitar, sporting a large scratch Mark is certain wasn’t there before.

Mark approaches, says his name quietly, reaches down to touch his shoulder.

“Don’t!” Roger says, jerking away from the contact, pressing closer to the back of the couch. Mark can tell just from the jaggedness of that one word that he’s been crying again.

“What happened?” he asks gently.

“I don’t want to talk,” Roger mumbles.

“All right.” Forgetting all about his new footage, Mark instead nudges his friend gently, making a space to sit beside him before drawing Roger’s head into his lap. Just as gently, he slides the blanket from Roger’s face and takes in the predictably tear-stained face and despondent eyes. “Hey,” he says softly.

“Hey,” Roger replies before burying his face in Mark’s stomach.

Mark runs a hand through his roommate’s thick, messy blonde hair, letting him take the physical comfort he needs when he can’t bring himself to talk about what he’s feeling. This is far from the first time they’ve done this since everything started. Since he and April found out they were HIV positive, since he lost her, since he started to convince himself that his world had ended. Mark has tried to be here for him as much he can, encouraging him, telling him that life goes on, that he can live with this new situation, but Roger is stubborn and grieving, for a girl and a simpler life he can never get back. It’s hard.

They sit this way for a while; Mark doesn’t know how long. Doesn’t care, really. He’ll stay all night if it makes his best friend feel even a little better.

Finally, Roger pulls away slightly and murmurs, “I tried to play something. I thought I could. But I can’t even look at my guitar without thinking about her.”

“There’s a pretty good scratch on it now,” Mark observes.

“I threw it. I don’t care.” And that, as much as anything, says what a bad place Roger is in. The Fender used to be his most prized possession. He cared for it like a child, refusing to pawn it even when the two of them could barely afford to put food on the table.

Mark isn’t sure what to say to that, so he only runs his fingers through Roger’s hair again before announcing, “I’m going to make us some dinner.”

“I’m not hungry,” Roger mumbles.

“I know, but you need to eat.” Mark stands carefully, doing his best not to jostle his friend. “Can I do anything else for you? Bring you a pillow?”

“Sure.”

Mark turns toward his bedroom, then hesitates. He leans down and squeezes Roger’s shoulder. “You’re going to make it through this, you know."

“I’m glad one of us thinks so.”


End file.
